A Different Happy Ending
by willowswhiten
Summary: Prince!Blaine/Witch!Kurt - Disneypromt what happens when the wicked witch finds himself face-to-face with a beautiful, dashing prince determined to take something the witch can't give? Earns the M in later chapters, smut/fluff
1. Chapter 1

'Once upon a time,' the Wicked Witch of the Woods said to the little girl, stroking hair away from her temple, 'there was a boy who never could seem to do as he was told.

'His parents had lived their lives exactly as was expected of them, and although he wished more than anything to make them happy, it always seemed somehow that he was not the way they wished him to be. While the other lads fought with swords and played games which ended in death and glory, his dreams were gentler things, soft and bright and full of colour. He found he preferred beautiful things and magic to ugly acts and war, and though his father called him half a man and his mother could not comprehend him, he found ways to make himself happy, without their approval.'

She looked up at him with soft blue eyes wide with horror. 'But... they were his parents. Why didn't they love him?'

The witch smiled sadly and chuckled her under the chin. 'They loved him, darling girl, but they couldn't understand him. His father told him that he had to marry, because that was the final test of his manhood, a final chance to prove himself. "In love," his father said, "you will find a way to be yourself". But the boy didn't understand, because he knew who he was. He just couldn't seem to find a way to be himself without disappointing the people he loved.'

'What did he do, Papa?' Avery looked at him with serious, wide green eyes, her little face framed by two mouse-brown braids.

'He did something very brave. He realised that no one has the right to tell you who you are, or who you should be, no matter how much you love them, and so he left. He left his family and the place he was born, and he travelled.'

The storm raged outside, but in their little cabin in the woods, they were safe and warm. The witch struggled not to worry whether his repair job on the roof would hold out, and instead, he tucked his beautiful five-year-old daughter into her bed, tucking her cloth parrot under her chin.

'He found people like him, brave souls who were themselves no matter what. He met a young maiden, who was a brave and fierce warrior, and who desperately wanted a babe of her own. She was his greatest friend, and the best person he knew, and so their love became a child.'

'Me.' She stuck her chin out, and he grinned. She looked like him, but she had her long-since dead mother's guts. Avery's mother had been from a tribe of warrior women, and she'd been as unwilling to have him be her lover and husband as he'd been to take the role, but she'd wanted Avery so badly.

Wanting Avery had killed her in the end, and the witch had lost his best and only friend, but he could regret nothing that had brought this child to him.

'Yes, little love, you. And in the end, his father was right – love taught him who he was.' He kissed her forehead. 'Sleep, now, Avery.'

'Love you, Papa,' she murmured, and turned on her side, away from him.

He sighed, and stretched gracefully, then made his way over to his workbench, where a half-cast charm was sitting, waiting for delivery. His long, pale fingers moved swiftly over the deft work, carving runes and sigils. He'd always been good at magick, something else that no one in the land he'd been born understood. It was supposed to be changing, there, under the rule of King Cooper, who even had a court Witch, but... he sighed, and began weaving a charmed ribbon for the charm to sit on. There was still nowhere safe for a witch to practice. He'd moved the two of them, himself and Avery, deep into the Enchanted Woods for that very reason; as someone connected with magick and the earth, it was defensible.

He wished more than anything that when Avery grew up, it would be into a world where no one who was different had to fear people turning against them.

There was a knock at the door, at the same moment that a rumble of thunder shook the little cabin.

He cursed softly, so that Avery wouldn't hear his habit of using foul language, and wiped his hands on his leather apron. Who dared visit him after dark, in the Enchanted Wood?

'Kurt!'

The voice was familiar. Too familiar, and his stomach plummetted to his feet when he heard the name that hadn't been spoken in so long. Since Avery's birth, he'd been witch or father, but never just himself.

He opened the door, and was immediately pushed aside by two figures; one, tall and well built, the other tiny and dainty as a doll.

His brother looked at him with desperate, pathetic eyes. Try as he might, he'd never been able to deny Fynnian anything, and one of the reasons he'd kept the newly knighted man out of his life was to protect himself from the vulnerability of that.

'You've got to help us, Kurt.'

'I haven't _got to _do anything,' he snapped, and then turned to the woman his brother had dragged along, who was drenched and dressed in a completely inappropriate grey hooded cape. 'I'm sorry, milady, it was a mistake for Fynn to bring you here.'

She was shaking, and not from the cold. He realised, with an unpleasant shudder, that she was scared of him.

Gods, all it took was for a man to live alone in the woods and work spells, and suddenly he was evil? Just because Kurt had a quick, biting tongue and had been known to chase bullshitters off of his property with flames in the shape of lions...

'You don't have to be afraid, though, milady. I'm not as the stories paint me.'

Her head moved, and she fixed on Avery, who had turned over again in her sleep and was snuffling softly.

'You have a child?'

He blinked. Her voice was the most equisite thing he'd ever heard, like honey and summer nights.

'Fynn. Why are you here? Why are you risking Avery like this?'

Fynn blanched immediately. 'No! I never meant to... I love her, you know that. I need your help, and I don't know where else to go! We. We don't know where else to go. We're in love, Kurt. I thought you might understand why I'm willing to do anything for her. It's what you'd do for Avery.'

'Avery can't protect herself,' he snapped. 'What have you done?'

The woman removed her hood, and Kurt found himself staring at liquid brown eyes, a regal nose and flawless warm skin.

'He married me,' she said, and he knew who she was. 'We eloped, and now... the Shadow Prince is going to hunt us down and kill us. He and I were betrothed, but I met Fynnian and I just couldn't do anything but love him. My soul knew him.'

Kurt blinked at the Princess Rachael and, forgetting the little girl sleeping in the corner, said the only thing he could think of to say.

'Well. Fuck.'

At that very moment, the Shadow Prince was singing happily to himself under a cascading waterfall, enjoying the water running down heavy over his training-tired shoulders and back.

Things were going to be alright, he told himself, a mantra which had gotten him through an awful lot of disasters. Things were going to be fine.

Certainly, he was in this kingdom to marry a woman who didn't love him, and whom he didn't love. And granted, he was going to become king of this land, when he couldn't think of anything he'd like less.

But he'd spent his whole life doing things he didn't particularly want to do, always trying to live up to the standard set by his perfect brother, King Cooper. He was an excellent knight, the kind of prince other princes aspired to be, but it would never be enough to be quite as good as Cooper.

He shrugged and flawlessly hit a high note. So what, if his own ridiculous dream of being a famous bard and poet was destined to be nothing but that: a dream? He was so good at mimicking appropriate behaviour his brother had nicknamed him the Shadow Prince.

He frowned, briefly. He'd heard some of the servants in the Dual Kings' palace whispering that name, and he'd come the conclusion that the people of this kingdom had decided he was more prone to killing people than he actually was. He wasn't sure if he preferred they think of him as a poor copy of his brother or as a ruthless killer.

The Dual Kings, fathers to Princess Rachael, were a revelation to him. For some reason, he had never once considered why there were two kings in this land, and Cooper had never enlightened him; he'd been surprised to find that the two great men were lovers. Apparently, that was not as unusual here was it was in his own land, and the idea had been niggling at the back of his mind since he had come to this place.

They seemed so blissfully happy together, so delighted that he should join their family. He couldn't imagine happiness like that. It had always been expected of him to marry well, a woman of flawless virtue, and to produce a dozen children.

He loved children, more than almost anything. They were sweet and fun, and never expected anything from him, except perhaps another song or piggy-back ride. But he'd realised a long while ago that while he loved women – loved their softness, their elegance, the strength in them – he could not bring himself to lust after them.

He'd wondered if there was something broken in him. But seeing the Dual Kings... they made his heart swell with longing.

He wanted someone to look at him like that. He scrubbed at his thick, curling black hair, and contemplated Rachael. She was beautiful, and sang well, and although they had not spoken much he was sure he could love her.

He would love her. Decided, he smiled up into the cascade of water. He would love her, and they would marry, and his children would be much cuter than Cooper's, and at long bloody last he would have lived up to all of the expectations heaped upon him since birth.

'Prince Blaine!' The servant who stood at the side of the pool, gaze averted, had been joined by a female palace guard who was unabashedly taking in the sight of the drenched Shadow Prince. 'Come quickly!'

He awkwardly ran through the water, reaching the edge and wrapping the proffered towel around his waist. He turned on the guard, who blushed prettily.

'What?' he snapped, and she quailed. His momentary guilt disappeared when she stood her ground.

'It's the princess, sire. She's been kidnapped.' Her eyes flashed with anger; Princess Rachael, the Songbird Princess, was beloved and her abduction would not be bourne. 'You have to save her. Please, my Prince. You have to find her, and bring her home.'

Blaine sighed and glanced heavenward for a moment.

Well, that was his grand master plan royally fucked.

_I write a lot of serious fantasy, but this is going to be pure, M-rated fluff between my favourite boys. I'm really busy atm so I'll probably continue in a week – sooner if I get some good feedback! xx_


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt woke early the next morning to something so utterly horrific that he just lay, still, staring up at the ceiling and contemplating taking his own life.

Someone was singing. At daybreak. _Daybreak._ He not only wasn't a morning person, he had a deep mistrust of anyone who was perky before they'd had chicory coffee injected into their blood. As he lay there, the ceiling above him turned from white plaster to a vivid angry red and back again, as his power got away from him. That damned pretty, prim princess sister-in-law of his had no bloody idea how close she currently was to death.

As always, Avery's ability to sense moments of weakness in her father came at an inappropriate time, and the little girl landed on top of him bodily, trilling out an echo of the princess' song. 'Daaaddy,' she sang to the melody, 'you haaave to get up so we can smuggle the princess to the seeeeaaa.'

Kurt sat up immediately, managed to smack his forehead against Avery's, and immediately had to apologise as she squealed. 'Aw, love, I'm sorry. You just startled me – what was that you were saying about Rachael?'

'Uncle Fynn says we've got to get her to the sea and across it, so that she'll be safe.'

Kurt considers the complete idiocy of this as a concept. Quite apart from the fact that the princess' jilted fiance was apparently a sociopath who would hunt them down even with the Soft Sea between them, did his brother really think that the Dual Kings would just let Rachael go? She was the apple of their eye, their only child.

He briefly thought about what he would do to someone – anyone – who took Avery away. He'd curse them into a frog and then boil the frog and then use the frog to cure warts on another frog.

He blinked at his daughter, who was still beaming, and realised he had frogs on the brain because she'd gotten into his paints again, and had coloured her face bright green.

With a bit of luck, she'd never grow out of her obsession with colour and drawing, and no one would ever want to steal her away. The thought comforted him, and he asked, 'she's going to be queen someday, and he's her husband now – it's not going to look good if she hides away.'

'I know,' the voice wasn't Avery's – it was the exquisite, melodic voice of the princess, who settled on the end of the bed and calmly accepted Avery into her lap when the little girl crawled over and pressed her head down onto Rachael's soft silk skirt.

She was getting green paint on it, and Kurt's eyes flickered to Rachael's face, which was showing a surprising expression of sadness, and bravery. Her fingers stroked Avery's brown hair, and he decided that if Avery liked her, he would make an effort with this woman who had most likely ruined Fynn's life.

'My fathers didn't raise me to run away, but I didn't know what to do,' she said softly, glancing away from him. 'Duty was telling me to marry King Cooper's brother, but I had never even met him, and I love Fynn so much... I suppose I didn't think about anyones feelings but my own when I made the decision to marry him. Now I feel that I have to run, at least until the prince can be made to leave us alone.'

'And how are you going to do that?'

She looked guilty, but there was steel in her spine, and Kurt realised that under different circumstances, she was exactly the sort of person he would be friends with. She was self-obsessed, but kind at heart, and braver than he'd originally given her credit for.

'I'm going to leave to cross the Soft Sea, and then Fynn is going to travel to Kingstown and explain everything to my fathers. I don't think they know it's him who took me...' She blushes. 'He's not exactly the sort to be missed. He's a useless knight, he's too gentle, but he's what I need. He grounds me, he reminds me to be kind, and he's so clever.'

Kurt couldn't help but snort, and she grinned, the expression lighting up her pretty, unusual face. 'Are we still talking about my brother? And what, pray tell, are you going to do about this bloodthirsty Shadow Prince I've heard so much about.'

Her face hardened again, and she looked him dead in the eye; she was smarter than she looked, and she knew that he wasn't going to accept a roundabout answer to a straight question.

'There's only one person I can imagine stopping him. Magick is against the law where the Shadow Prince was born – he'll be afraid of you. You're going to give us a spell to hide our trail, and then you're going to capture and keep him here.'

His anger bubbled up, and he snapped, 'Avery, go outside and find wild thyme. Now, little love.'

She sprung from Rachaels – her aunt's – lap and ran away, happy to be away from the tension.

Kurt continued, his gaze fixed on Rachael's. 'What the hell makes you think I'll risk my daughter that way?'

'Because you love your brother, and because you can protect her. He'll have no defense against you.' She looked down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. 'I know what I'm asking, and I've gotten to know Avery last night, and this morning. She's such a special little girl.'

'Which is exactly why I don't want her burnt at a stake,' Kurt hissed. 'Your fathers don't actively prosecute people like me and Avery, but they don't protect them. If anyone were to find out that I had a weakness like her... the only reason they haven't killed me for being the way I am is fear, and because they need my cures and medicines. That isn't protection, princess.'

'Then do this, and I'll protect you. I'll write laws, and enforce them – I'll move you and Avery to the palace, and you can be protected by the crown. Other people like you will become respected, once there is a royal Witch.' Her eyes filled with genuine tears. 'You're my family, now, Kurt. I don't want to do this to you, but I don't see any other way.'

'How long?' he asked, his tone clipped. 'If he stays here for more than a week, he'll be snowed in with us for the winter. This entire forest is impassably dangerous after first snowfall.'

'Not that long,' she said, and wiped at her tears. 'A few days, at most. You can keep him shackled. This house is large enough.'

She was right; Avery slept downstairs in the main room, in a cranny made by the stairs, her own little room which was also the place where the two of them ate, read and played. It was connected to the kitchen, which was large, with an area for Kurt to work on potions which required the hearth. Upstairs was an attic space with a slanted roof where he did most of his work, and slept, and went when he needed to be alone or when Avery was asleep.

If need be, he could lock this Shadowy Prince bastard up there and leave him to rot, until a summons came, at which point he could send the man off into the woods with a by-your-leave and a half-hearted wish that the snows would wait for him to get to the forest's edge.

A slow, wicked grin crosses his features at the thought of sending the man who was causing his brother – and brand-new sister – so much pain into the snowy Enchanted Woods, where with any luck he'd be cursed to within an inch of his life by a pissed-off fairy.

Although that probably wouldn't do much to persuade King Cooper to make magick legal in the land to the east.

He sighed, remembering how his brother – older, gawky, destined for the life of a knight to follow in their father's footsteps but completely unsuited to the cruelty of that life – used to protect him. Fynn had always been good at being just like everyone else, at making friends, but he had never, ever been cruel. He was gentle, and kind, and he'd been at one point in Kurt's life the only thing he'd loved.

Gods be damned, he would do anything for that gargantuan moron, and if he loved this woman... he eyed Rachael, and then sighed, resigning himself to adoring her just as much as he did Fynn. He'd never been one to ignore, deny or fight love, and he wasn't going to start now. He'd spent too long missing love to ever take it for granted.

'Right, then, big sister. Let's figure out a way to make you and your elephantine groom invisible.'

And when she flung her arms around his neck, her musical laugh bright as stars, he closed his eyes and hoped to all the things he held dear – sewing and Avery and wild strawberries in spring – that he hadn't just made a really enormous mistake.

Blaine and Wilder looked up together at the sky-bruisingly tall trees of the Enchanted Wood, and contemplated the fact that this might be a really enormous mistake.

Wilder huffed softly with concern, and Blaine nodded, swallowing hard. 'I've heard about this place.' The words are nearly swept away from him on the wind. 'Why would anyone have brought her here? Gods, I hope she's alright.'

Generally, Blaine was used to being tougher than anything he came up against. He wasn't tall, but he was muscularly, slimly built, and he was fast, and clever. His twin swords were extensions of his arms, and his understanding and appreciation of sound had one him more than one battle.

But there was nothing to be done against magick, and this place... it was the place where all magick came from, a place literal alive with it.

Wilder – a huge, straggly grey wolfhound who knew him better than most people did – keened softly and he wound a hand comfortingly into wiry fur.

'It's alright, my lad. We've got each other, and their trail... Gods, it's like she was being led by a yeti.' He paused, considered the possibility that she was being led by a yeti, and dismissed it as unlikely. 'Shall we go and rescue the fair maiden, Wilder?'

The dog bounded off ahead of him into the woods, and all Blaine needed to do was follow. He was an excellent tracker in his own right, but he didn't delude himself that he was half as good as his pet, and Wilder had the princess' scent. The air was cold, sharp and fresh, threatening coming snow either this night or one soon to come, and he knew that if it fell the loss of the trail would probably be the least of his problems.

The freezing cold and the approaching darkness began to form more of a hinderence as the trail led them ever-deeper into the woods – it was also a bit alarming that they hadn't been attacked by anything big and snarly or small and magickal. It felt like a charmed journey, protected some how, and Blaine happily thought about hown the princess would throw herself at his feet and beg to make a happily-ever-after with him once he found her.

He frowned, climbing a steep slope, as he remembered the Kings' faces when they'd told him what they needed him to do, when they'd begged him to find her. His own parents had never loved him like that, although he supposed his much older brother probably did – after all, Coop had arranged this marriage, and future kingship, for Blaine. There was strong love there, even if it often came with guilt and some snide comment which managed to make Blaine feel like a toddler who had just spilt juice on an important scroll.

He hoped Rachael was alright, not because he was particularly looking forward to being married – he imagined it would probably reduce the amount of time he spent wandering about the countryside – but because her fathers had been so sad.

He wanted to save them from that, with all the fervour of a knight in shining armour.

Finally, reaching the top of the rise, he stepped into a clearing to find Wilder running in circles, looking deeply confused. He opened his mouth to bark, but no noise came out, and Blaine took a step forward, worried about the dog when -

In a heartbeat, he was trussed up in a net and hanging from a tree. Neither the trap nor the man who had set it were visible until the very moment when they'd been sprung, and now he lay, glowering, in a net which ran the length of his body and suspended him so he was lying parallel to the ground, looking up into a smiling face.

Witchcraft. The thought occurred to him, but he wasn't scared, for a simple reason: the man he was looking down at was extremely distracting, and despite the satisfied expression on his face, didn't look bloodthirsty.

The Witch of the Woods, that terrible, terrifying concept, was around Blaine's age, a little taller, built on a more willowy scale but strength and grace in the way he held himself, tall and confident. His skin was milky, perfect pale – at least, that which was visible above a handsome outfit comprised of dark leathers and wolf pelts. Pale, long-lashed eyes smiled at him, and a wide, expressive mouth was quirked into a half-smile of satisfaction at his handiwork.

The witch's warm brown hair reached his collar, softly waved and snowflakes crystal bright on some strands hanging into his face. With a leather-clad hand – Gods, Blaine managed to think, how would those gloved hands feel on bare skin? - he pushed a lock of that hair out of his eyes and sighed dramatically.

His voice was surprisingly high, counter-tenor and sweet, but with a note of huskiness which made Blaine thrash against his magickally enforced bonds, desperate for freedom and no understanding of why. Was the witch enchanting him, even as he grinned up at him.

'Well,' the witch said softly, looking up at his furious prey with interest, 'it seems I've caught myself a charming prince.'

It would be a while before Blaine realised that was the moment everything changed.

_As ever, love to everyone who's been favouriting this and being generally without flaw. I can't really wait so smut will ensue soon... reviews make writing faster ;) xx Willows_


	3. Chapter 3

Kurt mostly ignored the man bobbing along in the air beside him as he wandered calmly back home, excepting of course for the fraction of his concentration which was maintaining the hex. The prince had seemed to take it upon himself to remove the title 'charming' from his name, and was currently cursing black and blue. However, he hadn't asked any questions, and Kurt didn't feel like giving him answers, so he amused himself by allowing the net holding him to bounce none-too-gently along the ground every so often. The man's dog pottered along beside Kurt quite happily, something which he imagined would be infuriating to the prince. Animals tended to like Kurt – his magick meant they understood each other well, and the dog was a gentle soul.

Finally, about half a mile from the house, the prince suddenly went quiet, and stopped thrashing about. He seemed to have gotten a hang of the hex, too – Kurt wondered mildy if the man had some sorcery in him, and if he did, exactly how his darling brother would repond to that. The prince was sitting, cross-legged, as he was dragged.

Kurt snorted softly and rolled his eyes when he looked at his face – he had the most ridiculous face Kurt had ever seen. It was so pretty, so expressive, with a strong jaw and a wide mouth, and these huge hunter-killed-Bambi's-mama golden eyes.

He had freaking ringlets. _Ringlets. _Even Avery, all of five years old, didn't have ringlets.

'Who are you?'

Shit. Kurt tried to keep quiet, but it had been a direct question, and he felt faint the longer he kept quiet. Finally, he said the least incriminating truth he could manage, 'I'm the Witch of the Woods.'

'Aren't witches supposed to be women?'

'No. Shut your mouth, Shadow Prince, or have it shut for you.'

Now, why did that bring up a strange mental image of grabbing a handful of dark curls and using his own tongue and teeth to silence the other man? Kurt glanced at him again, wondering once more if he was more than just a pretty idiot warrior, and might be casting some sort of curse.

The prince's huge amber eyes were still wide with fear and... was that curiousity?

'What are you going to do to me?'

Damned if he didn't keep asking him questions. Kurt had never understood why he couldn't lie, but Avery couldn't either; it seemed to be a trait of their kind, but it was a secret jealously kept. There was no way this fool boy – man, he looked only to be a fraction younger than Kurt himself – knew what he was doing.

'I'm going to take you to my home, where I will keep you safe and sound until this has all blown over.' He shot his best evil look at the prince, who didn't look so scared now, more desperately confused. 'If you curse like you've been, in my home, I will hex you silent and tie you up.'

'You're not going to tie me up, anyway?'

It wasn't a direct question, but it was easy to answer. 'You've heard of me. Why would I bother? Ropes will be the least of the things keeping you there.'

To his surprise, the prince chuckled. 'Sure of yourself, aren't you? You know, I've never met a witch. Not even the one my brother keeps.'

'You wouldn't have.' Kurt dropped the spell, and the prince's body slammed into the ground. Kurt stood over him, one foot pressed to his chest, and had to fight the impulse to press down and break a rib. 'I knew Eledda. She was a good woman, a sweet woman, and what your brother has done to her... I don't suppose you even know, do you? I suppose you just lounge around practicing your swordplay and never once question if it's right that she's kept like a mistreated pet in your brother's court.'

The man blanched, the sight of it a little strange on warm golden skin. 'I thought... I thought she lived somewhere, that he visited her when he needed her.'

'Yes, she does. In your dungeons. It must be nice for you, little shadowy prince, to never have to question anything in this world.'

The man's face suddenly hardened, and in a moment, Kurt understood that he had underestimated the golden prince, and had forgotten to enchant him.

In a second, the prince had him on his back, his body pressing along Kurt's, one elbow at his neck. Before Kurt could curse him into next Tuesday, the man lowered his lips to his ear and said,

'Blaine. My name is Blaine, and you do not get to insult me for thinking the best of people. I've had a lot of reasons in my life not to, but in the end... people are good. They have to be, or there's nothing worth fighting for, nothing worth saving.' He loosened his grip on Kurt, and looked so lost Kurt wanted, inexplicably, to stroke a curl away from his face the way he would Avery. 'I don't know my brother very well. He's not easy to know. But he's all I have.'

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him, perfectly at ease lying on his back on the forest floor with a beautiful prince pinning him there. 'Maybe you deserve better, Prince Blaine.'

'Whats your name?' Kurt had already realised that Blaine seemed a little absent minded, because none of the cruel boys who had used to torture Kurt back home would ever have released their hold on him in a clinch. Blaine was now just lying on top of him, seemingly having forgotten that this was not how normal people communicated. 'I mean... you're not just called Witch, are you?'

'No, I'm not. My name is Kurt.' He made a decision on the spur of the moment, not particularly keen on having an aggressive prisoner at home with his daughter for a week, and offered Blaine a smile. 'Viscount Kurtis Hummel, for all the good it did me. Now let me up, you weigh a tonne.'

He did, and offered Kurt a hand, pulling him to his feet when he took it. He was... strong.

'Kurt, where is my fiancée?'

Aaaand... shit. Kurt had cast the spell, pulling all of Blaine's limbs tight against his sides, pressing him back against the trunk of a tree, before he had time to react. Blaine swore furiously and glared at him.

Kurt glared right back, hating the force rising in the back of his throat, forcing him to answer. 'Not your fiancée, Shadow Prince. Your big brother is a cruel, fascist son of a bitch, but you still love and defend him. My big brother is an idiotic, romantic little boy trapped in a bloody huge body, and I love and defend him.' He took a step closer, tried not to notice how warm the prince was in the cold forest air, invaded the other man's body space the way his father had taught him, to make him feel like he wasn't worth respecting. Another cruel lesson he wouldn't be passing on to Avery. 'Rachael is not your fiancée. She's now my sister.'

The torrent of abuse that sounded so ridiculous coming from such a pretty mouth was silenced with a spell, and Kurt felt strangely bereft of Blaine's company as he walked him the extra mile home.

He'd heard the words, and they'd registered, but as he was forced into silence and dragged the rest of the way to the witch's home, he started to think.

If Kurt's brother was older, that might make him heir to whatever land had given the witch the title 'Viscount.' If their father still lived, then it was again likely that the witch's brother served at court, as a knight.

Rachael, the beauty, the future queen, the Songbird Princess, had married a fucking _knight_?

Maybe he looked like Kurt. Blaine regarded the slim, strong man speculatively. He could probably understand the attraction, but he didn't understand it. She'd thrown everything away, the chance for alliance, the chance of having a partner and a husband who knew politcs and could support her. Hell, depending on how Cooper took this, she might have started a war.

'She was scared of you, you know.' Kurt didn't look at him as he spoke,and Blaine mourned the loss of the brief smile he'd been gifted while pinning him to the ground. He blinked, re-thinking that sentence, and decided he needed some sleep. 'She didn't want you to come after her. Just in case you were thinking maybe your heart is broken, I can tell you with a certain amount of certainty that it isn't. I don't know why she was scared of you, despite being as strong as you are you're about as threatening as a little girl.' He seemed to consider this, because he added, 'you're considerably less threatening than the one you're about to meet, anyway.'

They rose over a ridge, and Kurt pushed aside a hanging curtain of ivy to show a hole in suddenly dense woodland. Through it, they were immediately outside of a welcoming-looking little cottage with a collection of broken cauldrons and a stable outside.

It felt as if they passed through a particularly... _thick_ patch of air and then it was clear and cold and fresh again, and Blaine realised there was no way he'd get out of here without Kurt letting him.

Just as this alarming thought hit him, the spell keeping him motionless and airbourne disappeared, and he hit the ground, knocking the air out of him.

As he tried to sit up, he looked up and saw Kurt give him a weary look. 'No cursing, remember? At least for a little while – I'll explain all of this to you when she's not around.'

_She_? The unvoiced question was immediately answered when Blaine got to his feet and was immediately shoved out of the way by a little girl with straight brown hair and pale skin, who latched herself on to Kurt's legs.

As Blaine watched, confused, Kurt swept her up into his arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead, as she sighed with pleasure and settled in against him. The only thought he could seem to push past his oxygen-deprived brain was: _he has a child. She looks just like him. She will have a mother, and they'll all be this happy little family._

The thought was strangely depressing, and he didn't know why. The little girl looked at him, and as soon as she met his gaze, her bright blue eyes blinked shut and when they opened again, they were perfect mirrors of his own hazel.

'Oh, gods,' he managed, but she just smiled a completely disarming, beautiful smile and turned.

'Papa! Look, I have gold eyes! Are they right?'

Kurt met Blaine's gaze over her head, and without any words being exchanged, the following conversation took place,

_yes, she's like me._

_ I wasn't expecting you to be a father._

_ You were expecting me to be a murderous sorcerer._

_ She's beautiful._ Kurt's facial expression softened, and he gave a little half-smile. Blaine knew he'd understood the tiny tilt of his head towards the little girl, the smile he'd given her.

And wasn't that strange? That he'd known this man for all of two hours – all of which he'd been a prisoner – and they seemed to understand each other perfectly.

She turned back to him, and beamed. It was very strange, seeing his own eyes shining out of her face. 'I'm Avery,' she said, offering a small hand, which he took and kissed, making her chuckle deep in the back of her throat.

'A pleasure, milady. I am Prince Blaine.'

'Were you good when I was away?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Yes, Papa.' Avery caught sight of Wilder, that traitorous dog who already seemed to love Kurt better than Blaine, and squealed, wriggling in her father's arms until he put her down and she could throw herself at Wilder.

'He's good with children, don't worry.'

'I'm not. You saw her eyes; nothing can hurt my daughter unless she lets it.' Kurt smiled down at her, then glanced at Blaine. His face wasn't like Blaine's, expressive and unable to lie – he hid everything, but Blaine thought he saw worry there. He hadn't reacted well to the news that Rachael had married someone else – his whole life-will-be-better-now plan had gone down the tubes pretty quickly – but he hoped Kurt knew that he wouldn't hurt a little girl.

'No one knows about her,' Kurt said mildly. 'And no one will. There's a reason we live out here, and it's in no small part due to your brother's never-ending work to make our people into criminals.'

Blaine tried not to flinch, not to show how much the idea that Cooper would punish a little girl for the way she'd been born hurt, but he knew that he didn't manage it by the way Kurt's facial expression softened. Awkwardly, the taller man touched Blaine's shoulder, offering some sort of comfort.

'You really don't know him at all, do you?'

'That's why I wanted to marry Rachael.' Fuck it, Kurt seemed to be able to read him any way, there was no point hiding anything. And if he was truthful, it was possible Kurt would let him go sooner. 'I wanted a family who knew me, and loved me, the way I am. Not all that much to ask for.' He glanced at Kurt. 'Am I going to get to meet her mother?'

'Doubtful. She was one of the last of the Morrigans.'

Blaine couldn't help but gape at Kurt, who seemed amused. 'The... the Bloody Priestesses?'

'Hmm... yes, I suppose, though she always hated that.'

'They didn't kill her for marrying you?' it was out before he could think, and he realised as he said it that if it was true it was possibly the saddest thing he'd ever heard. The Morrigan did not marry, did not have children, did not love – they were born, and other Morrigan predicted their birth.

Kurt looked at him curiously. 'You really don't know much about the world, do you, Your Highness?' He was quiet for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. 'She was the last of her people in this kingdom, and she was lonely. She thought that if she had a child, it would be like her... she begged me to help her have a baby. We weren't in love, so she didn't feel it denied her oath, and I was young and stupid and hating my family. I never thought I'd wind up raising a baby alone, but she died and it was immediately obvious that Avery wasn't Morrigan – she was a witch, like me.'

Blaine wondered how long it had been since Kurt had had anyone but a little girl to talk to – he seemed a private person, and yet as they watched Avery play with Wilder, he seemed to want to tell Blaine everything, to share his wonder at Avery.

'I was so relieved,' he breathed, running a hand through his light brown hair. 'I mean... look at her. You saw it, as soon as you saw her, didn't you? I wasn't making that up?'

'I saw it.' Blaine couldn't help but grin. 'She's so perfect. It's like she's lit up from within.'

Kurt's smile was wide – it scrunched up his whole face, and Blaine's heart felt a little sore.

'I don't know what I would have done if she'd been like her mother. The Morrigan find and take back their own... I would have run with her, I suppose. I'd do anything to keep her safe.'

'I wish you didn't have to.'

Kurt looked at him, all of the tension gone from his body. 'I'm still going to have to keep you here. Fynn and Rachael need time to sort this all out, and you could ruin that. I made a promise.'

'I understand.' And he did, he really did. Now that all of the fire was gone from him, all of his righteous need to save the princess, he didn't have anywhere to go or anything to do. Why not stay here with the handsome witch and his little girl? No one would ask anything of him here. No one would expect him to be anything. 'Fynn. Is that your brother?'

'Step-brother. Didn't matter to my father, though – he still made Fynn heir to the land he owns.' Kurt smiled, looking a little dazed, and Blaine wondered if he understood why he was baring his soul like this. 'He married Fynn's mother just to get the son he'd always wanted. It hurt at the time, but not anymore – after all, I got Fynn from it, and now that I have Avery I know that there was something wrong with that man. No matter how Avery turns out, no matter who she loves or what she does, I will always love and support her. The fact that he couldn't do that with me means there was something wrong with him, not with me.'

_There was nothing wrong with me_. Blaine's own childhood blurred behind his eyelids, and more recently, all of the things he was supposed to be and do and say... all of the things he couldn't, because they didn't feel right, because he was doing them to please people who were cruel and selfish. _There was nothing wrong with me._

'It's a strange thought, when you have it for the first time, isn't it?' Blaine realised that the witch – Kurt – was watching him with a gentle smile that made Blaine's stomach tighten and flutter. 'That all you need, to be the person you are and not who they want you to be, is just _have courage.'_

And when he turned and walked away, Blaine did what suddenly seemed as natural and right as breathing.

He followed.

_I'm so sorry it's taken so long – I'm in the middle of my exams, and this is un-betaed and the product of sleep-deprivation, so don't hate me if it's got mistakes! Some geniuses already spotted some earlier and told me which MAKES ME LOVE THEM MORE because you read it that closely? Just in case you haven't twigged, this is a true _AU_ world... in it, Kurt is the strong one, the one who knows how to be himself without fear, and his father wasn't supportive the way flawless _Burt_ is. Smut and more fluff to come, promise!_

_ All the love in the world,_

_ Willows xxx_


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt turned to ensure that his prince was following him, and found Blaine to be standing in the doorway to the cottage, looking around with an expression of bemused interest on his handsome, open face. He ran a hand through his dark curls and seemed to get his fingers tangled, tugging on his hair, and it occurred to Kurt that in the past few days this man had travelled from the land beyond the woods to have an arranged marriage, had his bride stolen, gone deeper into the Woods than anyone of sense would and now been abducted.

It might have been because Kurt hadn't had much interaction with other adults in while, but despite the fact that for all intents and purposes Blaine was his prisoner, he felt a sort of protectiveness. This, then, was the feared and wicked Shadow Prince – a sweet-natured man with golden eyes.

'Are you alright?' he asked him, and Blaine blinked and then bestowed upon him a wide, honest smile.

'You're absolutely not what I expected. Look at this place! It's beautiful.' He gestured around to the stone and wood walls surrounding them, to Kurt's collections of books and art, fabric and gems. 'It's... exciting, and terrifying. I have no idea why I'm trusting you, or why I'm not fighting you and trying to get away.'

Kurt snorted and started climbing the stairs to his attic room, feeling Blaine move to follow him.

'It's not complicated, Blaine. You've spent your whole life without anyone ever surprising you, just one of a thousand people who always do exactly what they ought to do. This might just be a delayed rebellion on your part.'

'Letting myself be kept prisoner? I fail to see how that makes me wicked.'

Kurt turned, just enough so he knew Blaine could see his mouth, and rested his hand on the doorknob to his room. 'Well, my prince, if you're looking for someone to teach you wickedness, you've come to the right man.'

And why would he go and say something like that? He stepped into the cold, bright light in the roof-top room, lit by light from the huge windows he'd cast to send glittering, prism-rainbow light. His bed was a sprawling sort of nest in the corner, kept neat and pretty with his favourite colours and fabrics, and beside it was his altar and his work-bench, the equipment which allowed him to channel the power in him, and the floor was painted with dozens of sigils and patterns. The ceiling was draped with soft fabrics and small paper birds Avery had cut out and attached there with strands of silk so that they drifted in the breeze.

The room was designed to feel outdoors, with fresh air and the scent of the woods, a concession to the fact that Kurt's sorcery would doubtless prefer he sleep under a tree outside rather than in the comfort of his own home. He walked to the altar, grabbing a spell and checking everything he'd left there was still in place and Avery hadn't been playing with it, and turned back to find Blaine standing by one of the windows, eyes shut, breathing in the scent of the freesias Avery had collected for Kurt and placed there in a jam jar.

'I don't see much wickedness, Lord Kurtis.'

'Kurt. Just Kurt, for the love of Chaos. And don't speak too soon.' He closed in on Blaine, leaning into his body space and feeling the other man tense even as he tied the leather thong around his neck, letting the spell tied to it rest in the dip at the centre of Blaine's collarbone.

Blaine's fingers raised to stroke it, his eyes wide and wary as the pad of his thumb ran across the smooth black stone with its druidic engravement. 'What is this?'

Kurt tensed. 'I don't like direct questions, Blaine. You need to remember that I am not a creature to be fucked with – I do not appreciate being commanded.' He and Blaine stared at each other for a moment, until the magick forced its way up Kurt's throat and he snapped, 'it's a spell. It binds you to me.'

'In what way? Is this the first spell you've cast on me?'

Bastard. Kurt – never exactly known for his patience – slammed his arm into Blaine's chest, focing him back against the wall with his neck exposed, and growled. 'Stop it, little Shadow-boy.'

'Make me. There's a reason people fear my name as much as yours.' Those beautiful, soft gold eyes suddenly seemed cold and calculating, and Kurt shouldn't have found that even more attractive. 'Answer me.'

The magick was already fighting him, trying to get him to speak truth, but he fought it just so that Blaine wouldn't get the pleasure of dominating him. 'I can promise you that you do not want me to ever feel the need to prove I am bigger, and badder, than anything that cares to piss me off. I am not a good man, pet. If you threaten me, I will make you suffer for it.'

Blaine's smile was slow and bared even, white teeth. 'Will you answer me?'

Kurt roared, the noise of the answers – of the truths – when they were not released, and managed. 'Yes. It binds you to me with my power, makes you an extension of me – I cannot control you, but you cannot leave lest I permit it. You will feel shadows and echoes of my pain and pleasure, to remind you of the spell – you will die if you try to deny it.' His eyes flashed with anger; the truth Blaine had forced from him was overly detailed for having been kept in too long. 'And I have cast spells to bind you, to levitate and silence you, and the one you now have around your neck, but nothing else.'

'That's a lie. You did something to me the very moment I saw you – what?'

This surprised Kurt so much, he actually began to relax, the discomfort of the magick fading with the new question. 'Nothing. Why? What did you feel?'

A pale flush crept up the skin of the prince's neck, and Kurt watched it with interest, before stepping back. 'You will stay in this room, and you will not touch any of my equipment.'

'This... this is your room.'

'Yes, and the only other room in the house, downstairs, is where my daughter sleeps. Despite the lovely first impression you've made, Blaine, I'm not allowing someone they call the Shadow Prince share a room with my daughter.'

'I thought you said nothing could hurt her?'

Kurt rolled his eyes. 'You have a difficult relationship with your family, I gather. You should then have an understanding of how much damage someone can do simply from trying to hurt you, even if they do not seem to succeed.'

Blaine sighed, then began unfastening his quiver and sword, and removing blades from various places around his person. Kurt sat down in the armchair in the corner and watched, considering the definite possibility that he was underestimating this man in some way.

'Right. Unarmed, cursed, and a prisoner. Would you also like to shave my head or tattoo your name on my body?'

Kurt gave a bark of laughter, and saw the corners of Blaine's lips quirk upwards, as though he couldn't help it. 'I'd never get rid of your hair, ringlet like that are a gift. And I'm undecided about the tattoo – I'll get back to you.'

Blaine crossed the room and sat by Kurt's feet, rolling his shoulder to stretch the muscle, their disagreement forgotten. 'Are you planning on telling me what's happening with Rachael?'

'Yes. Are you planning on telling me why you were so hell-bent on marrying a woman you don't love?'

Blaine's half-smile faded, and Kurt felt ridiculously bereft at its loss. 'I've fought in wars – I'm the expendable second son, and so I was shipped off to lead men and women to death. My family are questionable, and even as I fought for the kingdom where I was born, I can't feel sentiment for a place where anyone different or unique is punished. I wanted something that was all my own, something gentle and kind and I wanted someone who would give a damn whether I lived or died. Does that answer your question?'

Kurt felt like there was a bruise behind his ribs, a small, stretching pain that Blaine was pressing on. 'It does. He gives her that.'

The expression on Blaine's face was so broken Kurt didn't think, just slid down off of the chair to join him on the floor, where he pressed his hand to the other man's back, trying to communicate comfort when his only experience of doing so was with Avery.

'They're so happy together, it's absolutely sickening.' He sighed. 'I am sorry for this. It's just for a few days, and as you've probably already discovered, I'm not exactly good at playing well with others. I don't mean to force you to tell me anything.'

'It's fair. You can't help but tell me the truth, so I don't see the problem with being honest with you.' Kurt tensed, and Blaine smiled at him – he wasn't sure when the prince had become so close that Kurt can feel the warmth of him, the scent of pine and leather. 'I'm not an idiot, Kurt. Is it something to do with being a witch? The truth?'

'Yes, it is, and if you ever tell anyone, I'll gut you,' Kurt said pleasantly, stroking a circle absently on Blaine's back and relaxing. 'I'm not the sort of person who gets to judge you, so I'll stop. After all, I had Avery mostly because I was lonely, and even then... loving her crept up on me. Her mother died in childbirth, and I was in mourning – I had to take Avery away, and hide her, and look after her, but I didn't register anything. Then, one night, she had a fever and wouldn't stop crying, and when the morning came and it broke, it hit me like a blow to the chest. Love hurts like hell, and makes you weak, and keeps you strong. I could never think poorly of someone who goes looking for it.'

'You don't have to answer but... do you miss her?'

'Avery's mother?'

'I wasn't in love with her, Blaine. I've never loved anyone but Avery, and Fynnian.' He realised that his hand was still moving, gentling the other man, and that Blaine was turned towards him, looking at him with intense golden eyes which had a strange effect on him. 'I miss her. After I ran away from my home, she was the first person I'd ever met who liked me the way that I am. I never lied to her, and I started to like it.'

'I thought you couldn't lie?' Blaine's smile was so bright it was nearly blinding, and Kurt couldn't remember the last time someone had teased him.

'Not directly. And since Bryttany died, I've tried to remember to always be who I am. So... I'm sorry I've been a bit of a bastard.'

'I live in court, where everyone's sole purpose in life is to follow me around like love-struck puppies. You're... refreshing.'

This made him chuckle, and he rose, grateful and reluctant all at once to leave the warmth of Blaine's closeness and strange, bright eyes. 'Four days here, and then if I receive notice, you'll be free to leave. Let's both pray that it isn't longer.'

'Why?'

'If the first snow falls, you'll be trapped here for the winter.' Kurt rolled his neck, suddenly very tired, and beginning to think about the mound of spells he needed to cast in the kitchen downstairs, to afford some last supplies for the winter. 'I worry about leaving Avery on her own for too long.'

He walked to the door, and turned to see Blaine hadn't gotten up from the floor, but was looking at Kurt with a strange, surprised expression as he toyed with the charm at his neck.

'Well? Are you coming? She's going to want you to teach her swordplay – just remind her she's not allowed to kill anyone until she's thirteen, even if they're asking for it, and you'll be fine.'

And when he left, he found himself hoping that he would be followed.

_Exams are over! I'm going to be posting with quite a bit more regularity – you should expect a little fluff in the next, and sorry for the weight of conversation in this one, but I've been trying to get back in their heads after our time apart. Reviews are love! xx_


	5. Chapter 5

Blaine had never realised before that moment – parrying blows from a little girl's wooden sword and simultaneously trying to watch her father's long-fingered hands move – how difficult it was to do two things at once.

The night before he'd slept on a bed of furs beside Kurt's bed, and he'd barely been able to sleep, instead turned on his side and watching the rhythmic rise and fall of the witch's chest.

Kurt had said that he hadn't cast any spells before the obvious ones, to imprision and silence him. Which meant that what he'd assumed to be a spell wasn't, and instead he had to question why he was spending all night watching another man – his jailor – breathe.

He'd stroked soft circles on Blaine's back, and sat too close for comfort, and Blaine had felt his chest tighten and his breath quicken, his every nerve firing up. Fight or flight or... some third option. No one had ever made him react this way – he was completely and painfully aware of everything Kurt did, every elegant, soft movement the other man made.

And yet there was no was nothing doing this to him. And when he'd woken the next morning Kurt – and the scent of woods and cinnamon he carried with him – was gone, and he'd gone downstairs to find him already at his workbench making spells.

Avery had pounced on him as soon as he'd appeared, her small form delicate and soft as a bird as she'd pulled on his hand.

'Prince? Did you have sweet dreams?' She was even lovelier in the morning, reminding him of the children of the kitchen servants back home, whom he'd sat with for days and days after his return from war and when he couldn't bear to be at court. For the longest while, he'd needed to be away from all of the noise, demands and ceremony.

Avery looked so much like her father, with a thin heart-shaped face and huge eyes which this morning were a bright, unnatural violet.

'I did, Lady Avery.' He smiled at her, and she tugged his hand again.

'Papa's busy doing boring things, he said you might teach me to fight if I ask nicely. He's taught me everything he knows but he's useless.'

'Hey! I can hear you, little terror.' Blaine had looked over at Kurt, who had on a long apron and was braiding herb garlands with coloured ribbon and smooth stone sigils like the one he'd tied around Blaine's neck.

Which only made him think of the warmth of him, of the breath in his ear, of the cool skin of those fingers tracing patterns on his neck as he tied on the spell.

Bastard.

'You don't have to if you don't want to, this isn't a prison work camp,' Kurt had said, and before he knew what was happening, he was standing in the centre of the cleared living room brandishing a wooden sword at a little girl with what could only be described as a warrior's gleam in her eye.

'_Appelez, cherie_,' he commanded, and he could have sworn that Kurt's hands had stopped moving and he was listening. Avery stomped her foot obediently, and waited for the next command, '_et faisez l'attaque de fer_.'

As she parried, defended and lunged, Blaine was astounded by how quickly she learnt. It was in her blood, but it was more than that, she was wickedly clever and moved with a grace that could only have come from her father.

She sent a particularly vicious, skillful blow, and as he turned to parry it he found Kurt watching him intently, arms crossed over his chest.

Blaine felt his heart thud unnaturally in his chest and stumbled, half-falling onto Avery, who squealed as he caught her at the last moment and swung her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing.

'You,' he said in her ear, 'are the greatest natural fighter I've ever known. Your mama would be so very proud of you, I know it.'

'I know it, too,' she said simply, and then threw her arms around his neck. 'Thank you, Prince. Are you staying forever and ever?'

'Just 'til the snow falls, little love,' Kurt said softly, moving so that she was sandwiched between the two of them. His gaze met Blaine's over his little girl's head, and Blaine wondered if he was supposed to be able to breathe, as Kurt's hands covered his to take her weight from him. 'Come, now, you've been working for hours. Lunch, and then study for the rest of the afternoon.'

'Want Prince to teach me,' she said, her eyes now the same gold as Blaine's again as her father tried to prise her off him. 'He's nice. Nicer than Uncle Fynn, he never knows how to talk to me.'

'He doesn't know your lesssons, Avery. Although you are good with her,' Kurt said softly as he put her down and pushed her gently towards the kitchen. 'You aren't what I expected, Shadow Prince.'

'There's a time, after you've seen enough hurt and death and sorrow,' Blaine said under his breath, 'that you start to think that there's nothing more precious or more worthy of time than love. And that little girl is like a star full of it, burning bright. She can't seem to help loving, or being loved. How many grownups do you know who can say that about themselves?'

They walked together into the dining area in the kitchen space of the room, where Avery was setting places for soup at a table made from a vast tree stump, surrounded by cushions to sit on.

'It's a scary thing, sometimes. You can't blame people for protecting their hearts, Blaine.'

'No, I can't. But I know that I've seen too much, and been too low, to avoid love just for fear of being hurt. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a coward.'

'Spoken like someone who doesn't know what they're talking about,' Kurt said, but when Blaine looked at him, he found Kurt already watching him with a strangely gentle expression on his face.

They sat down, and ate a wildcarrot and fennel soup which Kurt had been stewing while he worked, after which he and Avery sat in her little alcove bedroom as she read out loud from a book of poetry Kurt held between them both, as Blaine sat in the window beside the cold misty glass pretending to read and really watching them both, wondering how it was possible for him to feel so riddled with uncertainty and want while everything around him was so peaceful.

The night came quickly, the winter days short, and as it grew colder he built and lit a fire in the hearth, before realising that both Avery and Kurt where laughing at him behind their hands.

'And what, prey tell, is so funny?' he asked, grinning at them.

Avery lifted her hand, her palm facing the ceiling, and her face was suddenly lit up by the bright fire she conjured there. A wicked smile on his face, Kurt did the same, except his fire flickered green and Avery was immediately distracted.

'Papa! How do you do the green?'

'I'll teach you once you manage the red before burning off your eyebrows,' he said, then snapped his palm shut and the fire disappeared. 'Sorry, Blaine, it's just sweet of you to light a fire when you're in a room with two sorcerers.'

'I'm still new to all this.' His fingers rose to stroke the charm at his neck, and he could sense Kurt following the movement. 'Tomorrow, Lady Avery, will you show your magick?'

'I'm not very good.' She jumped off of Kurt's lap and settled next to Blaine on the floor. 'It's locked away inside of me – I have to learn it, and then sometimes it breaks out of me, like when I'm sad or angry. It feels like there's something caged inside of me, like if you put Wilder into a box; he'd be safe, but he wouldn't be happy.'

'Are you unhappy?'

'No, but my magick is. It likes to be used, likes to make things brighter. Papa says out there in the world there are people who hate witches.' Her eyes turned a dark grey, stormy as the darkening sky outside the window. 'Maybe they wouldn't if they understood how much it hurts, how hard it is. All I want is for it to be good, is for it not to hurt anyone and to make them better the way Papa does.'

'Nothing good, nothing worth having, ever came easy,' Blaine told her, and it felt so strange and so natural when she crawled over and under his arm, resting her cheek against his chest. 'The important thing is that you never let anyone make you feel you're not worthy, or that who you are isn't good enough. They're not bad people, Avery, they're just scared of what's inside of you. Maybe someday, someone will show them that there's nothing to be afraid of. That your power isn't for hurting.'

'But then... there's my Mama. Sometimes, I think she'd want me to hurt people who hurt other people.' She frowned, and he felt it against him when her face crumpled with thought. 'I don't know if I can always be kind and good, Prince.'

'She would want you to protect yourself, and the people you love, and what you believe in. But I know, little one, that you're good. You can't hide goodness. As long as you do what you think is right, you'll never stop being good.'

It was then that he realised Kurt was standing over them, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace, his eyes flickering with reflected light.

'Sleep, now, Avery. Come on, sweetheart.' He bent low, his hair brushing Blaine's cheek as he picked up his daughter and pressed a hand to the back of her head, holding her close even as his gaze was still levelled at Blaine.

Kurt tucked her into her bed and was about to close the curtain over her alcove for the night, when she said in a sleep-heavy voice, 'Prince?'

'Here, sweet.' The endearment fell off of his tongue so easily as he kneeled beside her.

'Tuck me in?'

Kurt was standing close behind him, and he felt the other man tense with surprise. He leant forwards, smoothed her hair back from her forehead and pressed a kiss to her brow.

'Dream of gentle things, little one,' he said, then rose and let Kurt close the curtain behind him, leaving them alone.

'Upstairs,' Kurt said quietly, 'so we don't wake her. I need to talk to you.'

Blaine followed him, and as soon as they were in Kurt's room, the witch turned, arms crossed, and levelled a look at Blaine which made him feel about an inch tall.

'I don't understand you.'

'Why does that sound like an accusation?' Blaine walked to the window and started fiddling with the little wooden figurines there. In this room, away from Avery, he was more confident dealing with Kurt. 'I don't understand you either, but I've decided not to let it bother me.'

'It bothers you. I'm getting under your skin, and...' he sighed, and Blaine turned to find him flicking a smooth, flat stone over and under his fingers. 'I grew up knowing I was different. I never tried to be the person my father wanted me to be, because it made me miserable and I learnt quite young that if anyone tried to make me do something I hated, I could set their hair on fire. It never occurred to me, until this moment, that even out here with me, Avery knows that she's different and is struggling with it. She needs other people. She needed what you said to her down there.'

Blaine snorted. 'I can't imagine you Avery's age. You must have been a terror.'

'I had the worst of it beaten out of me.' Blaine tensed with anger at the idea of hitting a child, even as Kurt seemed to make a decision and stepped closer. 'You're bothering me.'

Blaine blinked at him. 'I'm... sorry? You're the one who's ensorcelled me to stay here.'

Kurt leant one hip against the window where Blaine was standing, half-turned towards him, his pale eyes bright and considering. 'It seems to me you've spent a really long time doing exactly what everyone expects of you. But then spending any time with you, it becomes immediately apparent that you're nothing anyone would expect from a prince or a decorated war hero.'

'What's your point, witchling?' Blaine was tired of feeling dominated, and he was reminded by Kurt's words that he, too, wasn't a creature to be fucked with. 'Is this the point where you try and teach me how to be wicked?'

Kurt watched him silently, just long enough for some of Blaine's bravado to disappear and the butterflies warring in his belly to rise. Then, as though some decision had been made in that ridiculous, bright mind, Kurt leant too close and spoke five words to the strong column of Blaine's throat, just over the place where his pulse beat too hard and too fast.

'Would you like me to?'

Blaine's mind went blank, and all of the thundering noise in his heart and his head were drowned out by the answer as clear as day on the tip of his tongue.

So he did what he'd wanted to do for two days, and threaded his fingers through Kurt's hair, pulling him close, and let his breath ghost over the witch's mouth.

When Kurt kissed him, it was searching and deep, his fingers digging into Blaine's hips and the warmth of his mouth intoxicating. He pulled them together, and Blaine's hand fisted in his hair in approval, not a single thought in his head or a voice telling him what was expected of him. There was nothing but the pressure of Kurt's soft lips and of his tongue, asking him to open, to let him in.

When Blaine moaned into his open mouth, unable to keep the sound inside when their hips pressed together, Kurt pulled away just enough to chuckle darkly and say,

'I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?'

_Earns the M in a big way in the next chapter – I did promise you smut, didn't I? ;) My particular love to an extraordinary damsel by the name of IamAnabelle, who is patient as the ages and does a better job than any beta ever could! As ever, reviewers are my favourite people._


	6. Chapter 6

_You did something to me, the very moment I saw you_.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Kurt couldn't think. His brain had been broken, utterly and completely, by the beautiful, strange man who was cradling his skull in both of his hands.

Blaine made the softest noise, a keening sound, and Kurt pulled him closer, savoring the sigh which followed. He might have been half-teasing the prince, trying to push him out of his comfort zone and trying to goad a reaction out of him, but this...

This was not what he'd expected. He couldn't remember what he'd expected, but whatever it was, he could not have predicted being pressed against Blaine's strong, warm body, his head tilted back while he was kissed so deeply it felt as if Blaine wanted to be inside of him.

And that thought, all on its own, made his nerve ending set on fire. With a growl, he pushed Blaine to the wall by his hips and pressed against him, using his slight height advantage to do what he'd wanted to since meeting the Shadow Prince.

He threaded his fingers through those dark curls, savouring their softness, as Blaine panted and stared at him with those glowing eyes, their pupils blown with dark want.

It occurred to him, in the back of a mind which could only process basic thoughts now that he wasn't kissing the prince, that he might be ruining this man's life.

He pressed his face to Blaine's neck, inhaling the warm scent of him, and kissed him in the soft place behind his ear, savouring the shiver that ran through his body. As he spoke, his voice was rougher, lower than usual, and the breath of it made Blaine moan.

Gods, the noises he made. Here was a man made for long, dark nights.

'I can't offer you anything, Blaine.' In his addled brain, it was imperative that he said this before they went any further. 'Do you understand that?'

'Idiot,' Blaine bit out, his hand digging into the material of Kurt's shirt and pulling him closer, so he could feel the strength of his body, the strange softness of it. 'Don't want anything but you.'

Kurt really felt that what happened next was his own fault.

He shifted his grip on Blaine's hair, and tilted his head back just a little, just enough so that he was in control and could dip his own head and capture those lips, running his tongue across their seam. Blaine opened to him with a breath and kissed him back, catching Kurt's lower lip between his teeth and easing the hurt with smaller, softer kisses.

The hands at Kurt's back dug in their nails, pulling at his shirt until Kurt lifted his arms and allowed himself to be freed from it, pulling Blaine's own over his head.

Again, his mind went blissful white-blank. He'd known his prince to be handsome, but not like this – not the warm skin, broad chest and narrow hips, a man carved by design from marble and storybooks. He pressed one hand to the feverishly warm skin over Blaine's furious beating heart, curling his fingers ever-so-slightly as if he could cling to it, possess it. With the other, he trailed a line with his fingertips along the strong line of the prince's collarbone, pressing a thumb into the dip at the base of his neck, then sliding around to once more cradle the back of his head and pull their bodies together for a searching, searing kiss.

The sensation of their skin together was nearly overwhelming, and Kurt had to bite back an expletive when Blaine raked his nails down the skin of his back and dug them into his hip, holding him, caging him.

Blaine kissed with the same strange intensity he did everything, but there was an edge of desperation to it which mirrored Kurt's own. This wasn't something either of them did – Kurt was almost certain that Blaine would not have survived in his home court if he was openly a lover of men, and he was equally certain that his instant attraction and reckless want was specific to this man.

He was strange, and Kurt found himself wanting to learn him, like a new book or a complex spell to riddle out. The fact that there would be no time to do so, that this was Prince Blaine he was currently kissing like he was a dying man's last wish, only made it more imperative that he learn him as quickly as possible.

He ghosted his hand across Blaine's ribs, discovered that rubbing the pad of his thumb across his nipples made the other man cry out, allowing Kurt the opportunity to capture his throat, pushing them tighter together. He let his teeth dig into the place where Blaine's pulse was thundering, and couldn't suppress a sound of raw satisfaction when the prince gasped.

'I don't... I mean, I've never...' Blaine managed, shivering when Kurt none-too-gently took his earlobe between his teeth. 'I don't know how to do this.'

Kurt smiled against his skin and pulled away enough to look him in the eye, something tender and hot pooling in his belly at the fear and want written across Blaine's face.

'It's alright, love.'

'It's not – I want this. I want you.' Blaine pressed his forehead to Kurt's, and the strange raw feeling behind the witch's ribs grew a little. 'And we've only got a few days, so what if... what if I'm not good enough?'

'Now you're being ridiculous.' Kurt kissed him, almost chastely, threaded their fingers together and guided the prince's hand low. 'Feel how much I want you, Blaine. I don't know about everyone else in your life, but I wouldn't punish you for being yourself. If you'd like, I'd teach you.'

Blaine's hand moved on its own, and as he cradled Kurt's erection, he caught his lips and drank the groan, painting fine patterns across the roof of his mouth with a skilled tongue.

Together, grappling for control, they somehow made it onto Kurt's bed, Blaine's fingers undoing the ties of Kurt's breeches and seeking the delicate pale skin of his hipbone.

'Off, now. Need to feel you,' Kurt breathed, and his mind nearly exploded when he felt Blaine's slow smile against his lips.

'You told me I was bothering you,' Blaine chuckled and started to take off his own trousers, a full laugh bubbling from his chest when Kurt's own enthusiasm to do the same had him fall onto his back.

'You were – you are. I don't understand it.' He rolled back over, grabbing both of Blaine's arms and pinning them over his head, dropping his head to the crook of his neck when their erections pressed together. 'Gods, Blaine; what are you doing to me?'

He started to move, slowly at first, then with ever-increasing urgency as his prince rocked beneath him, so responsive and so beautiful Kurt could barely keep his eyes open – it was like looking at the sun, seeing the pleasure flash in gold eyes.

'More,' Blaine choked, 'please, Kurt – more...'

'I can't last. You're too much, love. Forgive me.'

Blaine growled and before Kurt could think, he was on his back, pinned down by the weight of the prince, who reached between them and gripped both of their straining members in one long-fingered hand. Stars flashed across his vision when Blaine rubbed his thumb across both their tips, spreading and mixing their essenses.

'For me,' Blaine whispered, and kissed him, breathing into his mouth, the strong muscles of his arms shaking with the strain of impending release. 'Come for me. Look at me, Kurt.'

Kurt couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but open his eyes and find that there was nothing to be afraid of. Pressure built, impossible to fight, and he gripped Blaine's jaw, screaming with the pleasure, only dimly aware that as he fell off the edge he dragged his charming prince along with him.

They collapsed, a sweaty pile of limbs in the middle of the bed, as both men struggled to catch their breath. Finally, Kurt came back to himself enough to realise that Blaine was shivering, and he pulled the quilt over them both, pulled Blaine against his chest, so that he lay with his head just beneath Kurt's chin.

His hair was soft, and smelled of pine, and Kurt tried not to think about how the other man fit against him, how easy it felt to run his fingers over the line of his spine.

There would be a few days of this, of fighting and loving, and then the prince would leave and live the life he was always meant to lead. There were no stories where the handsome prince married the single-father wicked witch.

Not that Kurt would want that, he told himself forcefully. His head was still light, his body still loose and heavy, from what had been the greatest orgasm of his life. A thousand images flashed through his head – Blaine on his knees before him, using that mouth for dark deeds, or on his back with his hands bound above him and his legs wrapped tight around Kurt's hips.

'Is it always like that?' Blaine's voice was sleepy, and so satisfied that before he'd thought it through, Kurt had pressed a kiss to his curls.

Which was very not good. He was allowed to enjoy this man. He was not allowed to start gentling him.

Only he would even consider that an appropriate response to Blaine. Anyone else, he imagined, would never see part his warrior's past, his feats in battle and the scars he bore. They wouldn't see past his family name, or his duty.

But none of those things had any hold on this man in Kurt's arms. The only thing in all the world with any hold on Blaine, at least for a few moments, was Kurt.

'No. That was... amazing.' He took Blaine's chin in his hand, guided him to rise so he could look him in the eyes. 'Are you alright?'

Something strange flickered across his face. 'I don't think anyone's ever bothered to ask me that before.'

'I need you to always tell me. Always tell me if something's not right. I'm not going to turn away from you, but I do need to know.'

'Alright.' Blaine kissed him, more gently and more slowly, without the desperation of before. 'You're beautiful, witchling.'

To his horror, Kurt felt himself blush, and knew that Blaine noticed when the prince grinned and rubbed his cheek against Kurt's own furious red skin.

'I made you blush. I'm going to have to find ways to do that again.'

'I keep expecting you to start over-thinking this, Blaine. How can you be so... calm?'

Blaine hummed, from where he was now kissing Kurt's neck with tiny, soft bites. 'I decided today that I want you too much to question it. I've seen too many dark things to question a chance to be happy when it comes.'

'I don't have it in me to make anyone happy,' Kurt said with a smile, then arched into a punishing, sucking bite delivered to the point of his collarbone, sighing. 'I'm not an easy person to know.'

'Then don't make me happy. Please me.' Blaine grinned at him, and Kurt couldn't keep himself from reversing their positions once more, and taking his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it gently. 'I'm not looking for a fairytale.'

'That's a point. When you leave, don't wear anything shiny – it was a miracle the fairies didn't get you on the way here.'

'Get me?' Blaine echoed, looking alarmed.

'You see, if you obey my every command, you'll never have to worry about what sort of nasty thing happens if and when the fairies catch you.' Kurt kissed him, unable to stop. In response, Blaine wound his fingers into his hair and sighed.

The cold of the winter air rattled the windows, and as the storm raged outside, Kurt kissed his way down the strong chest of the Shadow Prince. The snap of snowy air hid the cries uttered from Blaine's lips when Kurt gripped his length, then took it into the cavern of his mouth, learning the taste and texture of his lover.

They slept together, Kurt cradled against the prince's chest, as the storm ebbed and the snowfell silent and heavy.

The Enchanted Woods were fickle, and alive with magick. That night, the power there decided that the story was far from over.

When they woke the next morning, it was to find that fate had decreed they stay together until the thaw.

_Please let me know what you think? This was so much more of a challenge than my Sherlock-fic love scenes, because I wanted to keep the language at least a little authentic to the dialogue. More to come! xx_


End file.
